


Set Me Free and Change My Ways

by Alkarinque



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Curufin's Failed Marriage, M/M, kinda 1920s-30s feeling, probably set in the US despite me not living there or knowing anything about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkarinque/pseuds/Alkarinque
Summary: Caranthir counted the bills and came up short. Two minutes later he arrived in Curufin’s office, face red and terribly angry, and threw the door open, shouting:“What do you think you’re doing?”But Curufin was not alone.





	Set Me Free and Change My Ways

**Author's Note:**

> This came wholly out of nowhere and I don't know if I'll write more of it or if this is all you'll get, but it was fun to write something in a more modern style so 
> 
> We all know what fics inspired me to have the Fëanorians as criminals on the side. What inspired the title on the other hand, is Dorothy and their song 'Medicine Man' because that's the mood I had when writing Curufin in this AU.

Caranthir counted the bills and came up short. Two minutes later he arrived in Curufin’s office, face red and terribly angry, and threw the door open, shouting:

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Now this would not have been an issue, as it was a common occurrence in the warehouse-turned-office that held the headquarters to the murkier side of their family’s business. It was not unusual for Caranthir, the fourth son with family at home and no wish to spend more time than necessary in his office counting his family’s laundered money, to come up short and blame Curufin, the fifth son who was sharp but not sharp enough to spend less than he got every month. Often, Caranthir was right in his accusations, leading to him never having _not_ barged into the office his brother so sacredly kept his.

But this time, Curufin was not alone.

When Caranthir threw the door open he was met with the sight of someone blond being occupied with a part of his brother he never wanted to see again. At his bursting into the room the blond looked up, as did Curufin. Caranthir would have been smug at how shocked and red and utterly _embarrassed_ his brother was, had he not recognised the blond.

 _The Blond_ was no one else but Finrod; their cousin. Half-cousin, to be specific and irritating. Caranthir froze.

One, two, three second went by without anyone saying anything. Curufin glared at Caranthir, Caranthir stared at their cousin, and Finrod looked on both of them, seemingly still adjusting to the new situation.

“What did you want?” Curufin finally snapped.

Caranthir did not answer though he glared back at his brother. “Close the zipper, would you.”

His brother did, face still red but the usual anger and pride coming back, and at the same time Finrod rose from his place on his knees, _God_ , Caranthir would never unsee this. _This_ , being his cousin’s tousled hair – most likely from his brother’s fingers -, his swollen lips – from _kissing_ his brother -, his messy clothes – some missing its buttons, _probably because of his brother_ – and Finrod’s tense, guilty frame. Caranthir remembered his cousin had a betrothed, some girl whose name he easily forgot, probably vanyarin, and he felt contempt rise up. He had little faith in his brother – his failed marriage had shown what he was made of when it came to relationships -, but _Finrod_. Their blond half-cousin had in all few encounters been the epitome of honesty, authenticity and, in lack of a better word; _goodness_.

An epitome of honesty, authenticity and goodness did not go behind the back of his betrothed and suck off his half-cousin in said half-cousin’s office. An office meant for an illegal business, was worth adding.

Caranthir could be tolerant and even accepting, in fact, he was known for it among his colleagues and his opposition and he took pride in not being like his stodgy half-cousin Turgon. But he thought very little of breakers of promises. Especially when it came to love.

“Leave”, he said, looking at Finrod. His cousin seemed unsurprised and only nodded, buttoned his shirt and left the office. Curufin said nothing, though a look was exchanged between them. The rattling of the wobbly door and the steps down the stairs filled the following silence between the brothers.

“ _Now_ , what did you want?” Curufin said, ice in every word.

Caranthir was silent for a few moments, before saying:

“There’s money missing, and I know it was you. No one else would dare. What did you want it for this time?”

Curufin said nothing, face blank. Caranthir sighed, realising the answer had just walked down the stairs to walk to a car which would take him home, to someone else.

 

Curufin did not love anyone; he had not since his wife left him. Or rather, since his wife abandoned him by staying behind in the old country. Even in his strongest moments Curufin admitted he had loved her. It was the last brave thing he could muster for their marriage, whatever remained of it.

His son. His son was the result and the remains. His small, small son; so young and growing and insisting on not being a child anymore. Curufin disagreed, though he might be partial, according to Celegorm.

All this was because of Celegorm, the fool. Always giving Curufin a proper headache and problems to last a lifetime. If he had not taken him out last time, he would not have met Finrod again, but not the one he had met before, but a new Finrod. A drunk, trapped, intriguing Finrod. How those eyes had looked in the dim light of the pub! For a moment, Curufin had seen himself in those eyes. A cornered man; a desperate man; a man with a desire growing, but unable to figure out what for.

He had not hesitated, though he felt embarrassingly young and foolish when they sneaked out in an alley behind the pub to do things that Celebrimbor certainly was too young for. When they had been done both had left without saying a word to each other, Finrod probably thinking about his girl and Curufin wondering if his father would be disappointed if he knew.

Finrod, the fool, had three days later walked into Curufin’s office – the official one – when everyone had left to speak to him about some tiresome deal Curufin had nothing to do with. Curufin had, of course, not mentioned this but had two minutes into the talk closed the door and pressed the other man up against it.

It was easy after that. Late nights in the office, some night out in a pub or a restaurant or a late walk. It felt good. Until he came home and saw Celebrimbor at the dinner table, reading or doing homework, and the guilt began to gnaw again, reminding him of his _responsibility_. He could not fuck this up. But the next day he still said goodbye to his son – so young, only ten years old -, giving some excuse, and left to meet another man running from the same thing, but in different shape.

Weeks went by and then Caranthir – that meticulous bastard, the only brother who still had a wife and had children and was _fine_ and was so distant to his own family Curufin wondered if he wanted out – came up short and found them. Curufin had thought he was the only one left in the building. He had thought Caranthir wanted to go home as early as possible. He had thought no one would notice the money missing.

 

“Celebrimbor needed books.”

Caranthir ground his teeth, wondering if his brother tried to make him more amendable if it concerned his nephew. In any other situation it would have worked – but not when money was involved. Not when it was family money. Dirty money.

“You make enough to cover his books.”

“Do I not deserve some more than the absolute necessary?” Curufin nearly spat.

“We both know you already have far above what is ‘absolute necessary’”, Caranthir said, calm in a way he usually never was. “All of us makes far more than what is needed. Even without the … extra income.”

Curufin had little to say to that, knowing it was true. Fëanor had been born a rich man but that had been in the old country and when he and his family arrived in the new one, they had next to nothing. Their father was diligent to point this out to all his sons, as if they had not been there to feel the hunger or the desperation when they could not find a house to sleep in. Curufin never wanted to think of that time, especially the fear he had for Celebrimbor. What if he had taken him all this way, separated him from his mother, promising something better, and could not even give him a roof over his head? What if he had made a mistake?

Dirty money was the solution and never stopped being one. As they earned more, more became the goal. Once they started it, they could not back out.

Caranthir noticed his brother’s silence and continued:

“The money was not for Celebrimbor’s books. It was for him, wasn’t it?”

At _him,_ Caranthir gestured to the door, knowing Curufin would know exactly who he meant.

Curufin turned to his desk to shuffle among papers, not wanting to face his brother when he answered:

“Yes.”

Caranthir sighed and rubbed his eyes, wishing he was home with his wife, eating a late dinner as they chatted about what had happened during the day.

 _I caught my brother and half-cousin together and then found out my brother has embezzled money from the family to spend it on said half-cousin_ sounded like a story for that occasion.

“What was it for?” Caranthir asked, realising he should ask if he was to reveal it to their father the next day.

 _Or should I?_ Caranthir thought. He would ask Nólaheri at home.

Curufin was silent for a long while, so long Caranthir thought he would have to repeat the question.

“I bought him a necklace”, he at last said, quietly. “I thought he would look good in it.”

Caranthir felt sorry for his brother, probably for the first time since the old country, back when they had been more brothers than business partners. He still turned and left without a word, leaving Curufin in the dim light of a single lamp, alone with his thoughts of sons, lovers, and escapes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hah! That was short! And totally without proper context of the setting or situation of all our favourite characters!
> 
> Anyway, comment or give a kudos if you liked it!


End file.
